This isn't Port Arthur!
by 3rdArmy
Summary: The year is 1905. On the snow covered hills surrounding Port Arthur, the Imperial Japanese Third Army bled itself out against the guns of the Russian forts. A soldier, one more on the endless list of casualties, finds himself swept far far away.


Takeyama Jun was going to die. Most men would shy away from the coming task knowing the fate that would befall them. Takeyama Jun would do no such thing however. Had anyone attempted to dissuade him, he would have laughed at the absurdity of the proposal. Death no longer meant anything to him, indeed though he had felt it scratching away at his convictions during the first attacks in July earlier this year on the ridges near O-ji-kai-shan, it was quickly wiped away by the realities. If he was to fulfill his duties, he had no time to humor fear. To hesitate even for a second on the cruel slopes of Port Arthur would surely result in his death as well as fifty more of his comrades.

Thus, it is with this mindset that Superior Private Takeyama Jun of the 1st squad, 3rd section, 2nd Company, 2nd Battalion, 36th Regiment, 18th Brigade, 9th Division of the Imperial Japanese Third Army had fought for the last 5 months, and now prepared for the attack on the East Urhlung fortress. He and the rest of the men in his battalion waited in their forward trenches for the signal to attack. Above them loomed the East Urhlung fortress. To the uneducated, it looked unremarkable. It looked as though the Russians had covered the hill with a great concrete pillbox. But the experienced men of the Japanese Third Army new well what awaited them. An open slope leading up to the fort, devoid of cover. Next, a multi story deep trench, tens of feet wide. Then, the concrete and dirt parapet of the fortress lined with loopholes for machine guns and rifles. Inside no doubt, the Russians had made even more walls and loopholes, covering the inner halls of the fortress. That is saying nothing of the Russians. Many say that the Russian soldiers were quite stupid and lacked initiative, but they had a propensity for stubborness and their physically imposing stature was a boon in the savage close quarters fighting that had characterized much of the siege.

Takeyama glanced around the trench at the men of his battalion. Some also glanced around at their comrades with wide eyes, replacements most likely. Some, aware of his veteran status, put on brave faces and attempted to meet his gaze with confident smiles. The old hands, of which there were precious few, simply stared back or gave soft nods, all with a weary look in their eyes. They knew what was coming, and had accepted its consequences already. A feeling of nervousness permeated the trench. Every man was either drumming fingers, shifting around, or subtly shaking. Even so, all had an aura of determination. Whether they had friends to avenge (which nearly all did), friends and family to prove themselves to, or one among a host of other motives, they were all united in their sense of duty. They were bound to the Mikado's will, and their glorious emperor had sent them forth to impress the will of heaven upon the Russian.

The thundering of artillery rocked the fortress plooms of concrete and dirt puffed above the fortress. The ground itself shook from the ferocity of their blows. This was nothing, however, compared to what was to follow. Five consecutive blasts rang out through the valleys of Port Arthur and no doubt, even the gods would have heard them. The shockwaves bowled over some of the weaker footed in the trenches. Even many of the old hands let out gasps of surprise along with the freshest replacements. Heralded by the five blasts, five great pillars rose above the fortress. Chunks of dirt and concrete were hurled hundreds of meters into the heavens, as if some ancient primordial being of the earth had taken issue with the fort.

Before the dirt had even settled, Major Akira whipped out his sword and pointed it forward. The deafening effect of the blast had rendered the hearing of his men nearly useless, but the message was clear. It was time to attack! The men clambered out of the forward parallel and charged as one. Leading them, was Major Akira and his standard bearer, Second Lieutenant Yamamoto, as befitting of any worthy officer. A collective roar let loose as the men took heart in the lack of Russian fire. Churning cold hardened dirt under them, the battalion made their way up the slope in record time. Under the forward glacis, They paused for a second, before Major Akira motioned to the 1st company's nearest section to follow him. They were promptly annihilated in a hail of bullets as they rose above the glacis.

The Hiroshima men collectively rushed over the remains of the palisade and counterscarp, heedless of their casualties. With a roar, the Russian soldiers rushed out to meet them.

The first Russian upon him thrust at him with his bayonet. It was textbook really, Jun pushed the bayonet aside in a well practiced, short sweep and stepped into the Russian, stabbing him in the quickly freed his blade from the screaming man, swiveling around for a new target in the fierce melee, and promptly being floored by a blinding pain to the back of his head.

His vision blurred and he barely felt the jagged edges of broken masonry digging into his body. He could only think of the alarm bells going off in his head, vaguely aware that the man who had hit him was likely coming down for the kill. His hands frantically surveyed the ground for any kind of weapon and he grabbed a large chunk of masonry. With a spurt of adrenaline, he whipped around, the rock swinging, catching his opponent in the arm. Jun heard a cry of pain and a clatter as a rifle was dropped. He could make out the black silhouette of his opponent as his vision slowly began to clear.

With a shout, he pushed himself off the ground at the legs of the Russian, knocking the man off his feet, and slamming his head onto the concrete chunks littering the ground. Jun quickly scrambled on top of the man and brought the rock down innumerable times, only stopping when he felt his hand covered in warm blood.

The battle blurred. Screams of pain, shouts of triumph, and ear ringing blasts of grenades tossed by both sides deafened Jun and they all slowly became one. He fought and fought, knowing that if a foothold could not be established another assault would have to be mounted, spelling doom for thousands more of his comrades, adding to the tens of thousands already lost. Failure was not an option. When his bayonet failed, he used his rifle as a club. When his makeshift club broke, he resorted to rocks, and when he could not find anymore rocks of suitable size, he used his hands and teeth. That was all Jun Takeyama would be able to recall of the assault on the East Urhlung Fortress, for it was then that his vision turned black and he knew no more.

The moment his eyes opened, they were filled by a blinding light. He blinked to clear his eyes, and failing that, with a groan, he brought an aching arm up to protect them. Was this heaven? Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the environment- and promptly saw nothing. Literally nothing. He was surrounded by a white space, even the ground, or whatever it was he was standing on was totally blank. He whipped around frantically, looking for something, anything that stood out.

"Boy." A soft but firm voice emanated from behind him. Years of instinct drove his hand towards his belt and with blinding speed, his bayonet was brandished as he faced the intruder.

Jun froze as he instantly recognized the man standing before him. Jun had never seen him in person, but had seen countless photographs of him. Dressed in the blue ceremonial military uniform of a high ranking officer and with a stout body, strong facial features, and a well groomed appearance, he was the very picture of a military man. The man peered down at Jun, soft brown eyes, staring directly into the young soldier.

Jun shivered inwardly as a chill flew down his spine and cold sweat began dripping down his neck as he realized just who he had waved his bayonet at.

"Your majesty!" He threw himself down, digging his face into the ground "Please forgive me!"

Emperor Meiji stared at the spectacle with momentary surprise before clearing his throat.

"Rise child." Slowly, as if expecting to be executed for any sudden movement, Jun rose, still keeping his head slightly bowed. The Emperor starred expectantly at the boy for a few seconds before loudly clearing his throat. Jun finally looked up, and, finally coming to full cognizance, snapped to attention, straightening out his posture and bringing his rifle up in a present before bringing it down to order.

"I have brought you forth from Manchu to assign you a mission." Jun perked up.

"More important than the war with Russia?" Jun felt his breath catch in his throat in anticipation as he already suspected the answer.

"Yes." The boy gasped as his suspicions were proven. Jun was keenly aware of what had happened in China nearly a century before. The Western nations had smelled weakness in the once vaunted nation and had preyed upon it. They had sucked out the wealth and left behind in their wake a den of opium smokers and cowards.

Perhaps in the past, Japan had looked up to China and its thousands of years of history but just ten years ago, they had defeated China over Korea and in fact, part of this war with Russia was to free Asia from the grasp of the West. If Japan were to lose this war, her legitimacy would be seriously hurt and who knows what woes the schemes of the Western nations would bring to Japan. Quite literally, this war could very well determine the fate of the nation.

What could warrant such gravity?

"Sir, I do not feel myself equ-" He was interrupted before he could protest.

"Your instructions are here." A gloved hand slipped into a pocket and produced a small slip of paper. The Emperor handed it to Jun, who received with a bow, careful to not dirty the emperor's pristine gloves with his own hands. Jun straightened out once more.

"I shall not disappoint you sir!" Jun exclaimed. He disappeared from the plain.

The God of Light sighed. He was glad it was over. Was he being too lenient? He had been wrong before. He had not felt such conflict since the beginning of the whole mess. Damn that infernal woman.

**Notes**

"Present Arms" is a common position in most Manuals of Arms (Instruction for a soldier in how to hold the rifle). Essentially, it is the salute while one holds a weapon. It consists of holding the rifle stock near the trigger with the right hand and holding the forestock farther down the rifle with the left and holding the rifle up in front such that the length is parallel to the standing body and the bottom of the rifle faces outwards from the soldier.

"Order Arms" is a position found in most, if not all manuals of arms. Order Arms consists of the soldier dropping the rifle to his right side so that the butt of the gun rests on the ground and the length of the rifle is parallel to his leg. The right arm holds the rifle upright while the left rests straight on his left side.

**AN:**

**Yep, another Russo-Japanese war thing. I'm doing a research project right now on it so I am kind of stoked. If you ever get the inclination to read about it, I recommend finding more out about the Siege of Port Arthur. The brutality and ****perseverance** **from both sides is simply astounding.**

**I've had this sitting around for a few months. I guess you could call it a revamp of my older fic. This is a bit more ****consistent**** with the plot of the show. I know much more about history than writing so if I get to technical or I should add more notes explaining historical nuances please tell me.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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